


No Match Made

by mariuspondmercy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Gen, Meet-Cute, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 05:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20204218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariuspondmercy/pseuds/mariuspondmercy
Summary: Using tinder in a public space is always a bit of a risk - Jehan learns that the hard way as the guy they just rejected online confronts them about it.





	No Match Made

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy this AU that was long in the making and took turns I didn't anticipate in the beginning!

Jehan fixed the timetable with a stare, eyes slightly narrowed. His flight’s gate still hadn’t been announced and they were supposed to start boarding in twelve - no, eleven - minutes. Next to him, a little boy kept growing more and more anxious, afraid that he and his dad would miss their flight. They’d surely be delayed, Jehan was certain about that. The question now was for how long they’d be delayed. At least they didn’t have anyone waiting for them at the other end of the flight. 

They sighed and relented. This could take a while, they might as well sit down. Just as they were about to turn, the board switched, announcing a delay of approximately an hour. Well, might as well get a coffee. 

Predictably, the queue was way too long and Jehan felt incredibly sorry for the staff who had to deal with increasingly frustrated travelers. As if snapping at the guy making your coffee would make the plane start faster. 

In hopes of making things a little better, Jehan gave a generous tip. They still had some pounds to lose anyway as coins couldn’t be exchanged. They doubted they’d be back in the UK anytime soon, given their salary and the whole Brexit discussion. 

Jehan got himself a large vanilla latte with soy milk and an extra shot of vanilla syrup before securing the last seat squeezed between the bar and the door. Okay, an hour wait wasn’t too bad, not with coffee and a pastry in front of them. 

And tinder. 

Look, they knew that being on tinder in an airport would do them no good. Even if they'd match with someone - an hour wasn't quite enough for a quickie. Not with matching, texting, negotiating, finding a place and still making the delayed plane. 

However, Jehan liked to check out their options. 

Some of the options were good - tall men with beards, non-binary people with incredible hair - short men with no hair weren't usually their go-to but this one had a dog in his profile pic. Always a plus. Jehan hesitated on the profile of a man with odd curls and a way too confident smile. They pulled up his profile information, saw that hardly anything was written their - except for a pun about ghosting - and quickly swiped  _ no.  _

“Ouch,” a slightly indignant voice popped up from behind them, “I know it’s not the nicest photo of me, but you could've given me a chance.”

Jehan turned around and frowned. “There's no way that guy in the photo was you.”

“Believe it or not, it was. Bahorel through and through.”

“Well, you should ask someone to take better photos of you, then. Not having anything in your bio isn't helping either but I suppose keeping private is important, so I get it.”

“I haven't had tinder for that long, I gotta confess. My friend convinced me that I'd need it, even though I usually pick up people the old-fashioned way.”

“The old-fashioned way?” Jehan raised their eyebrows. “By wearing flattering tights and showing off your muscular calves at a masquerade ball?”

The man groaned and draped himself over Jehan’s chair without actually touching Jehan. 

“I wish! I have amazing calves and I’d look dashing in a waistcoat. I have a very narrow waist and football player’s calves.”

“Do they have the appropriate amount of strength in them?” Jehan asked. 

Look, here’s the thing: Jehan knew it was dumb. It was dumb to flirt with a gorgeous hunk of a man who had just been visibly turned down on Tinder and also probably lived hours and hours far away. That they both spoke French meant nothing. Jehan didn't even know if they were on the same flight. 

But there’s no harm in flirting. 

“I can do two hundred squats while two cats sit on my upper back. I have no problem playing football for the full 90 minutes. And,” he dropped his voice lower, “I can fuck people against the wall for hours, if that's what you're getting at.”

“I’d ask for proof because, while I believe in ghosts, I don't believe in the sexual prowess of a man I just turned down.”

Bahorel nodded and stood up straight again. “Message received, sorry for bothering you. Have a safe flight.” 

Before Jehan could react or say anything, the man had already left the coffee shop, suitcase in tow. 

Well. That's not what they had meant at all, but it was good to know Bahorel would back down. Jehan sighed and looked at his phone. Enjolras had texted earlier the day to say he’d pick them up from the airport because he'd run into a friend who needed to go there that evening as well and who had a car - at least Jehan would see the friendly face of his flatmate and someone to immediately recount his mishap to. Maybe it would also make for a good  _ what could have been  _ or a nice  _ another almost  _ poem. They liked writing those, had an entire series of poetry dedicated to Almosts. 

Jehan sighed and finished their coffee. It was time to go to the gate and catch their flight. They were excited to see their friends again, to sleep in a proper bed and take a long shower without the water running cold. Ah, the perks of a home. 

When Jehan got to their gate, the queue was already incredibly long, the people stressed and anxious. A child was crying and the woman in front of Jehan kept making noises of annoyed distress, kept looking at her phone, kept tapping her foot. It was exhausting. 

Finally boarded, Jehan leaned back and closed their eyes. They shouldn’t sleep, of course they shouldn’t, because they’d arrive at close to 11pm in Paris and still had half an hour to drive to their flat. At least they only had carry-on luggage and wouldn’t need to wait at the conveyor belt for their suitcase. 

A sigh escaped Jehan as they spotted the curly hair of Bahorel a few rows down and across. Great. That whole situation was a mess but at least Enjolras had promised to turn up with Marius’ homemade macarons. Marius had perfected them over the last few months, ever since Jehan and Joly had bemoaned that they - being vegan - couldn’t have macarons. Jehan was looking forward to them. The only obstacle between them and heavenly macarons were hoards of disgruntled travelers - and the need to avoid Bahorel because there was no way Jehan wanted to end up behind him in the line off the plane. Then again, they really did want to clear up the whole situation, clear up that they hadn’t turned him down twice. On the other hand, Paris was a big city, there was no way they’d see each other again - and it wasn’t even said he lived in Paris. 

Pulling the hood of their sweater over their head, Jehan ducked out of the plane quickly. Luckily, it didn’t take them long to spot Enjolras, standing next to someone whom he was in deep conversation with. Enjolras perked up when he spotted Jehan. 

“Hey!” he greeted, wrapping them in a big hug. 

Jehan might've mentioned they needed a hug, two or three times… or twenty times. 

“Hello,” Jehan mumbled, face buried against Enjolras’ shoulder. 

“Right!” Enjolras drew back and beamed at Jehan. “I told you about Feuilly, didn't I? We ran into each other today and realised we both had friends come back this evening so Feuilly offered to help.”

“Thank you,” Jehan smiled. “I don't think I could've managed a train or bus ride.”

“It’s no problem at all. Nice to finally get to know the elusive roommate I always hear so much about but have never seen when I visited Enjolras.”

“Yes, it's odd. We've lived together ever since Marius and Cosette moved into their own flat and yet…“ Jehan shrug their shoulders.

“Oh, there's my friend!” Feuilly announced. He waved excitedly to make his location known. 

Jehan turned around and nearly stumbled back. 

Right. 

The world was trying to fuck them over. 

“Bahorel, you've met Enjolras before. That's his friend Jehan.”

The look on Bahorel’s face was near indecipherable. Astonishment, amusement, anxious energy radiated off him. 

“Bahorel,” Jehan nodded softly. 

“Off we pop,” Enjolras smiled. “We can have the macarons in the car. Marius left a lot. That man has too much free time.”

“That man is stress-baking because he's getting married soon,” Jehan said. 

“True. As if anything would end up less than perfect.”

“Oh… fuck,” Bahorel swore next to them.

Jehan turned around, seeing the spilled contents of Bahorel’s backpack on the floor. 

“You go ahead,” they told Enjolras and Feuilly. “I’ll help.”

“We'll bring the car around,” said Feuilly, leaving with Enjolras on his heels. 

Jehan knelt down next to Bahorel and handed him his tablet. “What a coincidence,” they mumbled. 

“You're telling me.”

“I didn't mean to turn you down the second time. I… Was trying to flirt.”

Bahorel raised one perfectly kept, thick eyebrow. “We need to work on your flirting skills. We could practice tomorrow over dinner?”

“And continue at breakfast?” Jehan winked at him. 

“And continue at breakfast,” Bahorel grinned. 


End file.
